


Closing the Door

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Friendship, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, The Quidditch Pitch: Leaving Feast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-18
Updated: 2007-12-18
Packaged: 2018-10-26 14:25:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10788531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: George is lost in a sea of dispair, can Ron's idea cast a life raft?





	Closing the Door

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

Darkness shrouded the rooms in the flat above Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. It had taken a few short days for the energy of battle to dissipate before the diamond edged blade of grief and loss stabbed hard at the hearts of the Weasley family and so many others. 

 

There was no pain, no emptiness and no empathy worth a damn that could explain how George Weasley felt. 

 

The burial was swift and many came to pay their respects to Fred, more sent their condolences by other means. Yet even as his brothers offered kind reminiscences and shed tears of laughter and sorrow, George remained detached and silent.

 

He stood in the living room of the flat he had shared with his twin, staring at the assortment of half finished projects, photographs and keepsakes that littered every surface. He felt like a ghost, wandering half passed around on a slivery wave, not feeling; numb to the world. 

 

They had all noticed his eyes seemed dull; there was no laughter, no smiles. Yet he did not cry, he did not grieve for the loss of his twin. His parents offered him their shoulders to cry on and while he had welcomed their embraces and not turned them away, his face remained bank and his eyes dry when he pulled away.

 

His older brothers tried drowning him with Firewhisky, drinking their own sorrow while attempting to douse his. His sister seemed unable to dry her eyes for more than a few minutes while in his presence, though he was told she was normally fine otherwise. He resolved that he was doing her more harm than good by staying near her.

 

It was this guilt that caused him to stand in the front room of his flat, alone and in the dark. He could hear Fred’s voice and smell his aftershave, feel him brush past.

 

Bottomless emptiness engulfed him and he dropped to his knees with the weight of it. 

 

A small knock at the door woke him from his stupor; he dragged himself reluctantly to the door. 

 

“Ron?” His brother stood in the darkness beyond.

 

“George. I was thinking, well I was talking with Hermione about everything and well, can I come in?” 

 

George stepped back from the door and allowed his brother to pass into the dark hallway. 

 

“What’s this about Ron?” George asked dully.

 

Ron walked into the lounge, lit by a solitary candle, and sat on the sofa. He motioned George to sit next to him.

 

“Before I say what my idea is, I need you to promise to hear me out and not fly off the handle, ok?”  Ron said.

 

“Ok.” George scrubbed his hands over his face with weariness.

“Right.” Ron took a deep breath. “You must know everyone is worried about you,” He began.

 

“Ron I’m…”

 

“George you promised!” Ron barked with an annoyance that George didn’t recognise.

 

“Fine. Sorry.”

 

“Everyone is worried about you. No one pretends to know what it’s like for you but we’ve all lost Fred, he was your twin but he wasn’t just _your_ brother.” Ron stood and paced the fireplace. 

 

“Mum is a mess and seems to think that you think because you were identical that you’ll remind everyone of Fred and upset everyone; which is mental but never the less. So anyway, I was talking to Hermione about everything, like I said, and she recons part of the reason you’re all holed up like this, is because you never got to say goodbye to him.” 

 

Ron looked over to George, who was staring at the floor with a ghostly blank expression, though clearly listening.

 

“So, I thought how can I make it easier for you? Now Hermione said this was a stupid idea and that it’d make you worse rather than better, but I wanted to see what you thought anyway, just in case you wanted to give it a go. Ok?” Ron stopped pacing. 

 

“You can’t make it better Ron. He’s gone and I’ll never get to see him again.” George whispered.

 

“Well that’s it you see. He is gone George and we all miss him, we always will. But you need to find some way of, I think Hermione called it closing a door, but I think, more of pushing it too so you can live George.” Ron sat on the coffee table in front of his broken brother.

 

“I can’t. I’ll never see him again. I just want to see him again Ron, just one more time, to say….” 

 

“Goodbye?” Ron finished.

 

George nodded blankly. 

 

“Ok.” 

 

George scowled. “OK? How is it OK Ron? He’s gone!”

 

“My idea,” Ron said quietly, “comes with conditions.”

 

“Your idea? What idea Ron? What are you talking about?” George said angrily.

 

“Firstly, it only happens once, and I mean that George. Secondly, it stays between you and me. Thirdly, after, you start coming to the Burrow again and we start planning how to get Wheezes up and running. OK?” Ron said calmly.

“What the hell are you talking about Ron?”

 

“Polyjuice.”

 

“What??” George whispered in disbelief, his anger dissipated.

 

 “I have some Polyjuice potion, not a lot, just enough for one dose, left over from when we were in hiding. Fred’s stuff is still in his room and his comb is in the bathroom. I’ll do it once George, for you, because you can’t carry on like this.” A large tear ran down Ron’s face as he looked at George. 

 

“You’d do that? For me?” 

 

“For you, for me, for Mum and Dad, everyone. We miss you George, it’s hard enough knowing Fred is gone but it’s so much harder knowing you are still here and drowning yourself like this.” Ron reached out and placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

 

“Once? Just once?” George asked.

 

“Just once.”

 

 


End file.
